


Culpability

by lockheed_london



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockheed_london/pseuds/lockheed_london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for this prompt on the Cabin Pressure prompt meme on Dreamwidth: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6625.html?thread=12269793#cmt12269793</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had started in the middle of the night, waking him up from a sound sleep. Martin had slowly woken to the uncomfortable awareness that he was far too hot, his throat _parched_ , and he had grumbled to himself as he flung back the cheap, scratchy sheets and blankets of that night’s hotel.

He was hard too, his cock _aching_ to be touched, and he fumbled for tissues from the bedside table as he pushed his pyjama bottoms down with the other hand. He was so close that it only took a few quick, perfunctory strokes before he came into the wadded-up tissues, and wiped himself off before deciding that he may as well clean himself up properly, since he apparently needed to get up for a glass of water.

In the tiny ensuite bathroom – barely more than a cupboard with a shower, sink, and toilet – he snapped the light on and flushed the used tissues down the toilet. He frowned at himself critically in the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands and drank two glasses of water: he looked a bit flushed. But he had just woken up through being too hot, and so he thought nothing of it but stripped his T-shirt off and went back to bed.

Five minutes later the first twisting cramp low in his belly had sent him running back to the bathroom.

Now Martin sat on the floor next to the toilet and leaned back against the wall exhaustedly. He felt dreadful: he had a headache, he was too hot, and the ache low in his belly spasmed sharply every time he moved to re-wet the cold flannel and wipe it over his face and the back of his neck. He tried to sit as still as he could but it was no use; the flannel had lost any trace of coldness and needed dampening again and so, moving as slowly and carefully as he could, he knelt up and reached over to turn on the tap.

Not carefully enough, though, and he hissed through his teeth as another cramp speared through him. This one, however, was accompanied by a smear of wetness between his buttocks that made him bite his lip in mingled embarrassment and arousal, and he sank back down to sit next to the toilet and buried his face in his hands. Far worse than any amount of physical discomfort was the knowledge of what this was.

Martin had been due to have his heat cycle two weeks ago, and had booked time off with Carolyn and deliberately not scheduled any van jobs for that time. When it failed to arrive Martin spent three days fretting over the lost income from jobs he could have taken even as he was relieved to miss it. After all, it wasn’t as though any of his previous solitary heats had been anything other than grim necessity. But for it to arrive _now_ …

Martin grabbed a corner of the bathmat and gripped it tightly as another wave of discomfort rolled through him. It lasted longer than the previous ones, and by the time it finished wetness was starting to seep into the cotton of his pyjama bottoms and Martin was panting raggedly. God, that one had really hurt, and for the first time since waking he felt a twinge of fear.

What was he going to _do_? He was supposed to be flying home tomorrow but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. He was already on thin ice with Carolyn after their last diversion and she would kill him for this, but he only had a few hours before he’d be completely incapacitated. Even if he managed to make it to the airport, no security official worth their salt would dream of letting an omega in heat aboard a plane, not as a passenger and much less as a pilot.

Another surge gripped him and he tensed until it passed, letting his breath out in a half-sob. He’d not brought anything with him: no toys, no towels, _nothing_. He’d not even brought any food with him into the room last night, thinking that he was going to be getting up for breakfast. There was no other choice: he’d have to ask Douglas to bring him something, much as it would make him look like an incompetent who couldn’t plan anything.

Just the mere through of how Douglas would look at him, one eyebrow raised inquiringly as Martin stumbled through his request, was enough to make a fresh pulse of wetness slide out of him and Martin moaned even as his face burned. God, _Douglas_. Of all the people he could have picked to see him make a fool of himself, it was just his luck that it would be Douglas. Douglas, with his dark eyes and the streaks of silver at his temples and his hands; hands that looked somehow strong and gentle at the same time and that Martin tried so hard not to watch on every trip they went on. It was so bloody _unfair_ , and Martin sighed in annoyance and gritted his teeth as, deep inside him, his body started to tighten again.

***

Douglas lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rattling whine of Martin’s bathroom fan through the wall. Damn Carolyn’s penchant for cheap accommodation; in a _proper_ hotel the walls would have been thick enough that he couldn’t hear it and he’d have been able to get some bloody sleep instead of lying awake silently willing Martin back to bed.

Good God, he’d been in there ages. Could it be that he’d gone back to bed and forgotten to turn the light off? Surely no-one could sleep through that racket, but stranger things had happened and so Douglas flung back the covers with a sigh. As he snapped the bedside light on he told himself firmly that he was just going to see if Martin was okay, that was all. Just a concerned friend checking on another one, and the fact that he was an alpha and Martin an omega _did not come into it_ , not at all, and he certainly wasn’t covertly looking forward to seeing Martin in his pyjamas, all soft and warm and sleepy, blinking disoriented at Douglas as Douglas tried hard not to stare at Martin’s pale throat.

There was no response to Douglas’ first knock. Or the second, or the third. Frowning, Douglas went back to his room, found his phone, and dialled Martin’s mobile. He stood silently in the middle of his room and listened to it ring through the wall, his concern growing. Martin _always_ answered that phone, even if he had to wake up in the middle of the night to do it (as Douglas had found out on a previous occasion where they’d had to share a room). What if Martin was ill? He could be passed out in the bathroom and in need of help, and Douglas grabbed his wallet and went back out. He would slip the lock, establish that Martin was fine – of _course_ he was fine, because the idea of him being not fine did cold things to Douglas’ stomach – and withdraw.

The cheap door lock put up minimal resistance and in a moment Douglas was inside, flicking the light on and closing the door behind himself.

“Martin?”

But the room was small enough that a cursory glance revealed it was empty, and Douglas made for the closed door of the bathroom. Except it wasn’t quite closed, not fully: it swung open when Douglas touched it, and he stared at what it revealed.

Martin wasn’t lying unconscious, at least. Instead he was sitting with his back propped up against the wall opposite the toilet, his knees drawn up to his chest and feet braced against the porcelain base of the toilet. Both hands were fisted in the bathmat and his face, when he looked up at Douglas, was flushed with what Douglas was willing to bet was embarrassment at Douglas finding him like this.

But Martin’s appearance was the second thing Douglas noticed; the first was his _scent_. Rich and luscious and vulnerable, it was as subtle as a sledgehammer on his foot and Douglas swallowed against a sudden rush of hunger. It drove him to his knees, and he knelt beside Martin on the dingy bathroom floor and reached out to touch his arm.

“You… you’re…”

“Yes.” No need for more confirmation than that; Martin’s body was practically shouting it at him. Martin was going into heat. An unexpected one, presumably, since not even Martin would be stubborn enough to think he could do a flight during a heat cycle.

Martin’s eyes were wide and shocked, and as Douglas watched they squeezed shut as Martin tensed, turning his face away and making a noise like a wounded animal. His knees pressed together tightly and his scent grew abruptly stronger; Douglas shuffled forward and gripped Martin’s shoulder until he relaxed, exhaling a sob that sounded as though he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Help me,” Martin croaked, opening his eyes and looking at Douglas. “Oh Christ, please. Help.”

Martin looked terrified, as well he might: unplanned heats could be unpredictable, Douglas knew, and before Douglas could speak Martin inhaled sharply and started to tense again, twisting his face away and his heels sliding and pressing against the toilet base as though he wanted to push himself away from it.

“Relax,” Douglas said to him, and shuffled forward again until Martin could lean on him. “Relax, don’t fight it; your body knows what it needs to do.”

“Oh God.” Martin half-turned to him, pressing his face to Douglas’ shoulder, and Douglas fumbled for his hand and gripped it tightly as Martin panted. At last Martin exhaled, and Douglas rubbed his thumb soothingly across Martin’s knuckles.

“Oh Christ, that one really hurt,” Martin said. His voice shook slightly, and when he lifted his face he looked suddenly very young, and frightened. “Help me. Douglas, please, help.”

“I can’t,” Douglas said, helpless even as Martin’s eyes begged him to think of something, to fix it. “I’m sorry, Martin. If you’d known ahead of time I could have nipped along to the local pharmacy and got you something to delay it, but now that it’s started you’re just going to have to wait it out.”

Martin made a despairing noise, turning his face away again, and Douglas put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. God, but Martin smelled good, and Douglas buried his nose in Martin’s hair and inhaled. He was mostly hard already, just from Martin’s proximity, and when Martin turned towards him in his embrace Douglas unfolded his knees and sat on the floor with his back to the wall so that Martin could crawl into his lap.

“You’ll be alright,” Douglas said, wrapping his arms around Martin and rubbing his back. It was rather an intimacy to be taking with an omega that he was only friends with, but Martin seemed to want the comfort. “It happens, but you’ll be fine.”

In truth he barely knew what he was saying; Martin was heavy in his lap and Douglas hardly knew where to put his hands: on Martin’s warm, bare skin or on the soft cotton covering his hips, so near to where his cock was pushing at the fabric, half-hard in response to the hormones flooding Martin.

“Please,” Martin repeated, and his mouth was on the side of Douglas’ throat, pressing an inelegant kiss to his skin. “I’ve got nothing with me: no toys, nothing.”

Martin nuzzled Douglas’ throat, working his way up and along his jaw until he could bump his lips against Douglas’. They were soft and slightly open, and Douglas cupped Martin’s nape reflexively. Martin kissed him softly, awkwardly, as though half his attention was elsewhere, and after a few seconds he whimpered and pressed a palm to his lower belly.

“Oh.” Martin broke away from their kiss, eyes shut and body taut, and Douglas held his breath in sympathy until Martin went limp with an exhausted little noise.

“Don’t leave me to do this on my own,” Martin said. “Please, Douglas.”

That was what did it: to hear Martin pleading, tired and scared, as though he thought Douglas was going to turn away and abandon him to suffer through a three-day heat on his own with no toys to help him.

“Of course I won’t,” Douglas said, and kissed him properly.

Martin moaned and clutched at him and Douglas stroked Martin’s back until his grip eased, kissing Martin slowly, softly, until Martin’s pace relaxed to match the one Douglas set.

“Let’s go to bed,” Douglas said, in between kisses. He kissed the side of Martin’s throat and nosed at the soft hollow under his ear. “Come on. You’ll be more comfortable there than on a cold bathroom floor.”

He gently nudged Martin out of his lap and stood, extending a hand down to Martin as Martin got cautiously to his feet.

“How’s the stomach?” Douglas asked, leading Martin over to the bed.

“Getting better, I think. I’ve not had one in a – _oh_.” Martin froze, his eyes closing, and Douglas dropped his hand to pull him close and rub his back.

Martin was tense against him, until a couple of seconds later he relaxed with a sigh. He let Douglas pull him over to the bed and he lay down as Douglas turned on the bedside light and switched off the main one before getting in next to him. He drew Martin close to him slowly, gently, trying to see if this was something Martin wanted: every omega was different, and some wanted to be held and touched during the early oestrus cramps while others only wanted to be left alone.

Martin, however, didn’t seem to know what he wanted. His face was flushed, almost feverish, and he pushed away the blankets that Douglas pulled over him, but the next moment he was shivering in the cool air of the room. Douglas wrapped an arm around his waist and Martin tensed subtly instead of relaxing, but when Douglas drew back Martin said fretfully, “Are you leaving?”

“No.” Douglas touched Martin’s face lightly, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “I’m just trying to give you some space to show me what you want.”

“I don’t know.” Martin rubbed his cheek against the pillow restlessly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I want.”

He kicked at the sheet tangled around his shins, and at the light touch of Douglas’ hand on his waist Martin lurched forward to press his face against Douglas’ chest and moan slightly.

“Why don’t you lie back and try to relax,” Douglas suggested, but as he tried to nudge Martin onto his back Martin resisted and clung to him.

“I can’t. I’m all… the sheets, I’ll get them…”

Douglas let his hand wander around and down, brushing over the seat of Martin’s pyjama bottoms as Martin shivered and moaned. The material was damp, hence why Martin was concerned about the sheet. Unnecessarily so, as they were going to be in a mess anyway by the time they were done, but they didn’t have a spare set to change the bed and they were going to have to sleep there so probably best to keep them clean for as long as possible.

“I see,” Douglas murmured, and unwound Martin’s arm from his waist so he could get up. He retrieved the towels from the bathroom, dropping the stack of them beside the bed and spreading one beneath Martin before tugging again to guide him onto his back.

This time Martin went, rolling onto his back and stretching a little to find a comfortable position, and Douglas got back into bed. He shuffled close to Martin, lying next to him but stopping short of actually touching him. He didn’t want Martin to feel crowded, and Douglas propped his head up on a hand and stroked the backs of his fingers down Martin’s arm while he watched Martin.

Martin hadn’t put on a T-shirt since leaving the bathroom and, this close, Douglas could see that his nipples were flushed. They’d be more sensitive too, Douglas was willing to bet, but he kept his hands to himself. It was on Martin to set the pace, and currently Martin was closing his eyes and chewing at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you tired?” Douglas murmured. He didn’t need to ask; Martin’s exhaustion was written clearly all over his face, and Martin nodded.

“You ought to sleep then.” Douglas reached down to stroke Martin’s forearm lightly, running the pads of his fingers over the delicate prominence of bone at Martin’s wrist.

“I can’t.” Martin opened his eyes and looked at him. “I’m so tired, but I can’t quite…” He scuffed a heel into the blankets. “God, I wish I could just drop off.”

He rolled onto his wide, facing Douglas, and shuffled closer. Their chests were almost touching, and when Martin rested a hand tentatively on Douglas’ waist Douglas wrapped an arm around Martin, pausing to ask, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Martin burrowed further against him. “Yes, that’s fine. It’s actually – ah.”

Martin tensed again, and this time Douglas dared to reach down and cover Martin’s hand with his own where it was pressed flat against Martin’s lower belly.

“You know what would help with that,” Douglas said, when Martin had relaxed with an exhausted noise.

Martin hummed interrogatively, and Douglas said “Orgasm.”

It was true – oxytocin had been proven to alleviate the worst of early oestrus cramps – but Martin reared back a little, startled.

“I…” he stammered, “that’s kind of you but I don’t think things are… I’m not sure that I’m quite ready for–”

“I didn’t say penetration,” Douglas cut in smoothly. He hooked a finger in the elastic waistband of Martin’s pyjamas, his knuckle brushing the warm, smooth skin at Martin’s hip. “I said orgasm.”

“I…” Martin pushed a knee between Douglas’ legs, his hand gripping at Douglas’ waist greedily. “Does it really?”

“Yes.” Douglas kissed Martin’s hair, and drew Martin’s leg further between his legs. Martin moaned a little and lifted his face and Douglas kissed him, licking between Martin’s parted lips and hugging him around his waist. He lifted a hand to brush a thumb over one of Martin’s nipples, and at this Martin gave a little cry.

“Oh God,” he gasped, breaking away from Douglas’ kiss and arching to push his erection against Douglas’ leg. “Oh God, that’s good.”

“Can I…” Douglas looked down. Martin’s nipples were tight, and presumably sensitive, since merely a firm brush of Douglas’ thumb had him grabbing at Douglas. “I want to taste… can I?”

“Yes,” said Martin, his breath coming short. “Just… just go gently, I’m a bit…”

Douglas hardly needed to be told, with the way Martin was squirming against him, and he slid down the bed to gently breathe across Martin’s left nipple.

“ _Oh_.” Martin’s hand settled at the back of Douglas’ head, trying to urge him forward, and Douglas let himself be urged. He covered Martin’s nipple with his mouth, kissing and licking at it, until Martin was moaning freely.

Douglas pulled back. Martin’s cock was pushing hard against his stomach; Douglas felt almost drunk with lust for him, and he flattened a palm against it as he growled, “Let me suck you.”

“Yes. I… yes, alright, I… here…”

Martin rolled onto his back, lifting his hips and starting to work his pyjamas down and off, and Douglas pushed his hands away and said, “No, let me.”

He shifted to kneel between Martin’s spread legs and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pyjamas, sliding them under Martin’s bum and off. He dropped them blindly over the side of the bed as he stared greedily at Martin: the skin on his hips and thighs was milk-pale from lack of sunlight, the coarse hair at his groin almost shockingly dark in contrast, and his cock strained up against his belly, flushed and heavy.

Douglas slid forward to nuzzle at Martin’s hipbone, sliding his hands calmingly along Martin’s thighs. Martin’s inner thighs were wet with fluid and Douglas leaned down to kiss him there, licking his lips. God, it was like a drug, the pheromone-rich scent of an omega in heat, and Douglas kissed him again and again. He started to dip lower, closer to where Martin was open and leaking, but Martin made a strangled noise and his hand clenched in Douglas’ hair until Douglas relaxed. Perhaps that was a little much for their first time together.

He didn’t touch Martin’s hole with his fingers, not yet. A gentle kiss would be one thing, but Martin wasn’t ready for penetration yet. The lubricant he was producing was still the thin, almost-watery fluid of early heat; rich with pheromones, it was designed solely for evoking a protective response from the omega’s mate, or from the nearest available alpha if the omega was unmated. It was a signal to lay in a supply of food and find somewhere secluded before full heat began; to an alpha it was utterly unmistakable and the protective impulses it triggered were nigh on irresistible.

But, Douglas thought, nosing the crease between hip and thigh, it was all rather unnecessary. The mere sight of Martin’s pale, frightened face would have been enough to ensure that Douglas would do anything he wanted, never mind biology getting in on the act. Hence sex: one way to hurry along this stage was orgasm for the omega, to persuade the body that sex had already started and make it change to producing the thicker, slightly oily lubrication that would ease the strain of repeated penetration.

So Douglas gripped Martin’s lean thighs with gentle hands and leaned in to lick at his cock. Martin gasped at this, his legs twitching in Douglas’ grip, and Douglas did it again, and again, until Martin’s squirms got too much and Douglas had to let go of his legs to grip the base of his cock. When he slid the head into his mouth Martin bucked sharply, and Douglas drew back to ask, “Too much?”

“No.” Martin looked slightly wild-eyed, and his hands gripped the sheets in preparation. “No, go on, it’s good.”

Douglas took him at his word and dipped his head again, and Martin moaned heavily at the first lush, slow pull of Douglas’ mouth on his cock. Douglas lapped at the head, and rubbed his tongue over Martin’s slit, and pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves just beneath the head, while Martin’s moans rang in his ears and Martin shivered under his touch.

Douglas got his shoulders under Martin’s legs and wrapped his arms around Martin’s thighs, holding him steady while he sucked him, and Martin’s hands migrated from the sheets to Douglas’ hair. Not pulling or grabbing, just sunk in his hair as though Martin needed proof that Douglas was really there.

Douglas freed one of his hands and reached for Martin’s hand, guided it down so that Martin’s fingers touched the base of his cock where it pushed obscenely between Douglas’ lips into the warm, soft heat of his mouth, and Martin’s cock twitched as his thighs tensed.

“ _Oh_ ,” Martin groaned and Douglas tilted his head to look up at him and saw that Martin’s eyes were closed, and that he was biting at his lip. “Oh God, Douglas…”

Douglas rubbed Martin’s side soothingly, trying to let him know that it was fine, he should just let himself go, but Martin writhed restively and at last Douglas pulled back.

“What is it?” His voice was rough from arousal and sucking on Martin’s cock, and Martin opened his eyes and stared down at him, looking gratifyingly dazed and dishevelled.

“Put…” he faltered and Douglas squeezed a thigh comfortingly, pressing a kiss to it.

“Go on. Tell me.”

“Put your fingers in me,” Martin blurted, in a rush. “ _Please_.”

Douglas slid a hand down beneath Martin – God, he was _soaking_ , it was a good job Douglas had retrieved the towels – to touch his fingertips gently to Martin’s hole. He brushed it, pushing inwards the slightest amount, but Martin was still tense and resistant and, although Martin moaned and his legs twitched, Douglas took his hand away.

“I can’t.”

“ _Douglas_ –”

“You’re not ready yet, I _can’t_.”

Martin’s face crumpled and Douglas couldn’t bear to see it.

“Here, come here, don’t look like that.”

Douglas slid up the bed to kiss Martin, pushing an arm under Martin’s neck to hug him awkwardly.

“Don’t be upset,” Douglas murmured, in between kisses to Martin’s lower lip. “You’re not ready for that yet, I can feel it. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Martin moaned, chasing his mouth for a proper kiss, and Douglas kissed him, dipping his tongue into Martin’s mouth and feeling Martin’s cock pushing hard against his hip.

“I’ve got an idea,” Douglas said, and Martin nodded, licking his lips. “Here.”

He shuffled farther up the bed, getting between Martin’s legs and encouraging Martin to curl his hips up until Douglas’ thigh was jammed between Martin’s thighs and pressing firmly against the soft skin behind Martin’s balls.

“How’s that?” Douglas asked.

Martin writhed a little, and Douglas grunted, “Lift your legs higher. Here…” as he grabbed one of Martin’s thighs to encourage it up around his waist.

Martin twined his legs around Douglas readily, and this time when Douglas leaned back in for a kiss he pushed his thigh against Martin and Martin moaned as he ground his hips against it.

“Good?” Douglas asked.

“Yes,” Martin murmured. “Oh God, yes, that’s good.”

Douglas grunted, straining to nudge farther forward between the spread of Martin’s buttocks until he could push against Martin’s hole.

“Now then.” He reached down for Martin’s cock. “Let’s take care of you, shall we?”

He grasped Martin’s cock, wet with saliva and precome, and began stroking it briskly, squeezing his fingers tight and nudging his thigh forward to grind against Martin’s hole rhythmically.

This way was infinitely better, for Douglas at least. This way he could slide an arm under Martin’s neck and kiss him as he panted, watching every little flicker of pleasure on his face. Martin’s hands clutched frantically at Douglas’ back and Martin’s knees gripped his ribcage, and Martin ground himself against Douglas’ thigh and moaned into Douglas’ mouth.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you,” Douglas gritted out after a while. Martin’s neck was arched, his throat bared for the frantic press of Douglas’ mouth; his expression looked as though he were utterly lost, eyes tightly shut and brow furrowed.

Martin groaned.

“And I can’t wait for you to fuck me,” he said. He reached down between them, to where Douglas’ thigh was wet with him, and rubbed his palm through it before gripping Douglas’ cock. “I want you to, so much…”

He broke off, moaning as Douglas tightened his fist on Martin’s cock and nuzzled his face into Martin’s throat.

“I want to make you come,” Douglas grunted, “ _right now_ , come on, tell me how to make you come.”

Martin cried out a little, and dropped his feet to the bed to squirm and push himself harder against Douglas’ thigh. He rocked his hips, thrusting up into Douglas’ grip and rubbing himself shamelessly against Douglas’ leg until Douglas nipped his throat and Martin gasped sharply.

“I’m going to come… oh fuck, Douglas, I’m going to… oh God, I’m _coming_ , oh… oh…”

Douglas’ fingers were suddenly slick with him and there was a rush of wet heat where Douglas’ thigh was pressed tightly against Martin’s hole, as Martin quickly turned his face away to push it into a pillow and cry out. Douglas kissed the cheek and temple that was still visible, stroking Martin through his orgasm until Martin’s back relaxed from its tense arch and his legs sagged open. Martin’s hand settled on Douglas’ waist and Douglas took his hand away to grip his own erection.

He _ached_ , from so long spent focussing on Martin and ignoring himself, and now he squeezed his eyes shut as he started to pull at himself with hard, almost furious strokes. Martin’s hand covered his and Douglas opened his eyes to see Martin blinking up at him, his eyes very blue and looking flushed and sated.

Martin’s hand was still wet with his own fluids and Douglas let go of himself to pull Martin’s hand up and suck two of Martin’s fingers into his mouth. Martin gasped a little, and Douglas shut his eyes again, pulling at himself faster and sucking Martin’s fingers. God, that _taste_ : musky and heady and entirely addictive, and Douglas felt Martin squirming his hand down between them to wet his other fingers and press them to Douglas’ mouth.

Douglas sucked them in, moaning greedily. He was well aware of the picture he must make, kneeling between Martin’s splayed thighs and masturbating desperately, and he let Martin’s fingers slip out of his mouth at the first sharp tug of pleasure, deep in his groin.

Douglas groaned as he came, biting his lip to try and muffle the noise, and his come streaked Martin’s stomach as Martin’s hands cupped his face and refused to let him look away. Douglas stroked himself until the last shudders of pleasure died away, and when he stopped Martin’s hands gripped his shoulders, trying to draw him in with a silent request for another kiss. Douglas kissed Martin as best he could, his mouth dry from panting, and clumsily lay down next to Martin, cupping his face for more kisses.

“How do you feel?” Douglas asked, between kisses, and Martin moaned softly into his mouth, curling closer.

“Better,” he said, his eyelids starting to sag sleepily. “I… yes, oh, _so_ much better.”

“Good.” Douglas was about ready to sleep himself, but there was one more thing to take care of before Martin’s heat started in full. “Martin.”

Martin merely hummed vaguely, his eyes already drifting closed, and Douglas nudged him. “Don’t drift off yet, I need you to tell me if you’ve got any protection or birth control with you, or if I need to go out to get something.”

“I…” Martin bit his lip, and looked at Douglas from under his eyelashes. “I’ve got… condoms. In my first aid kit.”

“Good,” Douglas said in deep relief. Never mind that it was the middle of the night and he had no idea where the nearest pharmacy was, the thought of leaving Martin – even briefly – made his stomach clench uneasily.

He got out of bed and, guided by Martin’s sleepy directions, located Martin’s overnight bag in the wardrobe and the first aid kit tucked in the side pocket. Inside there was a large box of condoms, certainly enough to keep them supplied for the coming few days, and Douglas dropped it by the side of the bed on his way to the bathroom.

He cleaned himself up briskly before returning with a warm, damp washcloth for Martin, who barely stirred as Douglas gently cleaned the mess off his stomach and between his thighs, and only woke when Douglas climbed back into bed. Martin turned over, reaching for Douglas and blinking heavily in the light from the bedside lamp, and Douglas drew him close and waited until Martin settled before nuzzling his hair.

“Sleep,” he said, in response to Martin’s softly interrogative noise, stroking his hands gently down Martin’s back. “I’m here, now sleep.”

Martin’s only reply was to sag limply against him, one hand gripping Douglas’ bicep as if for confirmation that he wasn’t going anywhere, and Douglas closed his own eyes also.

~~~

Martin awoke some time later. The curtains were just starting to lighten around the edges, and Douglas was pressed up against his back: a solid, comforting bulk. The initial frenzy of heat had passed, albeit temporarily, and this felt rather like the calm in the eye of the storm.

Martin pressed gently back against Douglas, who tightened the arm around Martin’s waist and nuzzled sleepily at Martin’s nape. He could hardly believe that Douglas was here, and that he’d been so… well, wonderful, really. Martin had never been with an alpha during heat before – or, in fact, ever if he were to be truly honest about it. He’d expected it to be a little rough and demanding; he’d not been at all prepared for Douglas to _fuss_ over him. And when Douglas slid down the bed and put his mouth _there_ …

Martin’s face heated at the memory and he squirmed slightly, scissoring his legs. But the movement made something stir, low in his gut, and he subsided. The next stage would be here soon enough and he wasn’t yet ready to give up the warm tranquillity of lying in Douglas’ arms; he closed his eyes, rested a hand on the forearm around his waist, and dozed back off.

***

Douglas came awake slowly, groggily. The sun was coming through the curtains; it was later than he’d usually sleep, thanks to the interlude with Martin in the middle of the night, but even so he felt as though he could have slept for another hour easily. He couldn’t work out what had woken him until Martin stirred and moaned next to him and Douglas looked over at him.

Martin was still asleep, but he had kicked the covers off and as Douglas watched he arched a little, legs sliding restlessly against the sheets. His inner thighs were wet, a damp patch on the towel beneath him; clearly the next stage had started while Martin was asleep and Douglas reached over to rest a hand on Martin’s stomach. Martin was hot, his skin faintly damp, and he moaned a little at Douglas’ touch and spread his legs. Douglas stroked his skin gently, not wanting to wake Martin if he was still deeply asleep, but Martin shifted and murmured Douglas’ name.

Still Douglas hesitated, unsure whether Martin was talking in his sleep, but Martin rolled onto his front and twisted his head to blink sleepy eyes at Douglas.

“Please,” he groaned. “Douglas, _please_. Oh God, it’s…” Martin broke off to press his face into the pillow, spreading his legs, and Douglas bit his lip as his cock twitched. “Fuck me.”

“I will,” Douglas murmured, petting at Martin’s nape and pushing his fingers into the short hair there. “Just take a moment to wake up and pull yourself together. Do you want some water?”

Martin looked sleepy and bleary-eyed, but at Douglas’ gentle suggestion he dug his knees into the mattress and moaned despairingly, “ _Now_. God, don’t you want to? Am I going to have to… to…”

He reached around and down, canting his hips up to push his fingers into himself and moaning almost despairingly, and Douglas slid closer. Tiredness aside, he couldn’t bear to see Martin panting desperately, touching himself as though Douglas wasn’t _right there_ and more than willing to do it, and he smoothed a hand down Martin’s back to grip his hip, encouraging Martin to roll over onto his side so Douglas could tuck his chest against Martin’s back. Martin went readily, and Douglas rubbed Martin’s stomach quellingly,

“I’ve got you.” Douglas nuzzled the words into Martin’s bed-ruffled hair. “Easy, now, just relax.”

Martin groaned, grinding his arse back against Douglas’ groin, and Douglas leaned up on one arm to reach for the box of condoms. He tore one off the strip and, before lying back down, he dragged a pillow down from the head of the bed near Martin’s face.

“Hold this for me,” he requested softly. Martin’s hands were clawing restlessly at the sheets, and at Douglas’ nudge he latched onto the pillow, drawing it close to press his flushed face against its cool softness, his fingers knotting themselves in the fabric. Douglas kissed Martin’s hair, and tugged another pillow down to the level of his knees.

“Here, roll forward a little,” Douglas said, his hands guiding Martin half-onto his stomach, urging him to draw his topmost knee up to rest it on the pillow. Martin arched his back slightly, exposing himself further, and Douglas dropped a hand down between them to nudge his fingers between Martin’s buttocks. No mistake, this was definitely full heat: Martin was wet all the way down to his thighs, and his hole was soft and gave under the tentative press of Douglas’ fingers.

Martin wailed a little, quickly muffling it in his pillow. “Oh God, why aren’t you doing it already? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” Douglas slid an arm around Martin’s waist, hugging him tightly and gentling him as he writhed. “I just want to make sure I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me _now_ ,” Martin said despairingly, reaching back around to touch himself again, and Douglas quickly tore open the condom packet and rolled it onto himself.

Strictly speaking they ought to wait until Martin was slightly more awake before trying this; an omega’s first mating of a heat was no small thing. But Martin sounded almost distressed and so Douglas only wadded the towel in front of Martin’s hips and pulled a pillow out from under his head. Douglas shoved it against Martin’s stomach to reinforce the nest he was creating around Martin, wanting him to feel safe and secure, before gripping the base of his cock and guiding himself forward. Martin groaned loudly at the first push of Douglas’ cock against his hole, canting his hips back, but Douglas’ hand in the small of his back stopped him.

“Slowly,” Douglas said to Martin, gently increasing the pressure until his cock pushed past the initial resistance and sank inside. “Slowly now, you’re alright.”

And Martin leaned back against him and clutched at his pillow as Douglas nudged himself fractionally deeper, pulling back slightly before pressing in again as Martin arched his spine and his mouth fell open.

“Morning Skip!”

A sharp rap on the door accompanied Arthur’s cheery greeting, and Douglas almost jumped out of his skin. It made him shove himself a little deeper into Martin than he’d intended, and Martin gasped sharply as Douglas stroked his stomach in wordless apology. Martin’s face had pulled tight with distress at Arthur’s call, and Douglas kissed his bare shoulder and called, “Just a moment, Arthur.”

He made to withdraw, but Martin grabbed the hand on his stomach and squeezed tightly and Douglas stilled.

“Douglas?” Arthur sounded baffled. “What are you doing in Skip’s room? Have I got the numbers mixed up?”

“No,” Douglas said, praying his voice didn’t sound as strained as he felt. “No, you’re perfectly correct, this is Martin’s room. I just… Martin isn’t… available, not at the moment.”

Martin had dropped a hand down between his thighs, rubbing and pulling at his erection, but he was starting to moan just a touch too loudly for Douglas’ comfort and he gripped Martin’s wrist and gently eased his hand away. Martin whined in protest and Douglas shushed him, unable to resist nudging his cock just a little deeper.

But something gave, deep in Martin’s body, and Douglas sank the rest of the way into him in a rush as Martin shuddered and cried out into his pillow. Oh God, that would be Martin’s internal vaginal opening; usually tight and closed off, heat had made it relax and open, ready for Douglas’ cock. With exquisitely pleasurable results, if Martin’s reaction was anything to go by, and Douglas wrapped his arms around Martin and steadied him as he thrashed, pressing his face to the crown of Martin’s head and inhaling his scent.

“Douglas?” The concerned tone of Arthur’s voice made Douglas suspect that it wasn’t the first repetition of his name, and he drew a deep breath.

“Yes?”

His hips nudged forward, almost without conscious intent, and Martin made a loud noise. Even half-smothering himself in the pillow, that really _was_ too loud and Douglas gritted his teeth as he withdrew, tightening his arms around Martin when he flailed and grabbed at Douglas’ hip and pressing his mouth against Martin’s ear to breathe, “Hush now” when Martin made a despairing noise.

“Is everything alright?”

Douglas looked at Martin’s strained face, the mess of lubricant leaking from him, and the sheets and blankets kicked almost entirely off the bed by Martin’s thrashing.

“Not really, no,” he replied with perfect honesty, as Martin dug his fingers into Douglas’ forearm, and Douglas kissed Martin’s temple.

“Oh no.” Now Arthur sounded concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Christ,” Martin groaned, turning his face away from Douglas’ kiss. Shame and humiliation had tightened his face into something ugly, and Douglas tried to make himself think. Clearly Martin was terrified of Carolyn’s reaction if the truth got out, as well he might be, but Douglas had to say _something_ to justify the fact that they would be incapacitated for the next two days, possibly three.

And then inspiration struck.

“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” he called.

Martin was tense in his arms, clearly waiting for the blow to fall, and after a second he relaxed, craning his neck to look at Douglas in surprise.

“ _Your_ fault?” Arthur repeated.

“Yes,” Douglas said, freeing an arm from Martin’s clutch to rub at his chest soothingly. “Do you remember how Martin and I went out for dinner last night, while you said you’d rather stay in and order room service?”

“Yeah. Room service is _brilliant_ , though, with the little menus, and–”

“Yes, indeed.” Douglas’ palm brushed one of Martin’s nipples and he writhed in Douglas’ grip; Douglas tightened his arm and continued, “Well, to cut a long story short, I convinced Martin to try a sushi place and their kitchen hygiene wasn’t what it ought to be. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling awful; I came to Martin’s room to see if he was similarly affected and, when I found he was, I thought it made more sense for the pair of us to share quarters to keep an eye on each other. So I’m afraid we’re both out of action for the next day or two.”

“Oh, thank you,” Martin panted, looking relieved. “Thank you, thank you–”

“Oh no! Poor you. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, actually.” Douglas paused and gritted his teeth. Now that his panic was over, Martin had closed his eyes and resumed arching his back and grinding his hips against Douglas. The crease of his arse was slick and wet and Douglas’ cock slid along it easily, the head almost catching on Martin’s hole.

“If you could bring some food then that would be marvellous,” Douglas managed, gripping Martin’s hips to steady him. “Bland things: crackers, fruit juice, that sort of thing. I’m not sure we’re in any fit state to go out and get supplies.”

Martin was squirming in Douglas’ hold again, and Douglas ran a firm hand along his flank as Arthur said, “Absolutely! No problem, Douglas, you can count on me. Is there anything else? What about some–”

“No thank you, Arthur, just those will be fine.”

Douglas supposed he sounded a little brusque but God, he was only human and there was only so long he could hold out with an omega in heat rubbing themselves up against him, mewling and begging him to fuck them. He gripped Martin’s upper thigh and lifted it.

“Right then. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Douglas called. Martin was trembling against him, almost frantic now, and as Arthur’s footsteps receded Douglas angled his hips and thrust into Martin once more.

Martin cried out, hugging his pillow to his face, and this time Douglas didn’t stop but kept fucking Martin, shoving into him and reaching around to take Martin’s cock into his fist.

“ _Oh_ ,” Martin sobbed. His cheek was deeply flushed, his face mostly hidden in his pillow, and Douglas kissed his hair and murmured, “Come on then, darling. You’ve been so good, and waited so long, now come on, it’s time.”

Martin made an incoherent noise, his body tensing up, and after a few more minutes of Douglas’ hand on his cock and Douglas’ steady, rhythmic thrusts, he groaned heavily as his cock started to jerk in Douglas’ grasp. His come soaked into the towel rucked up between his thighs and Douglas stayed buried as deeply as possible in him while Martin shook, his arse fluttering and squeezing around Douglas’ cock with each spurt of come over Douglas’ fingers.

“Oh,” Martin panted, lifting his face from the pillow and gasping for breath. “Oh, oh God…”

Douglas groaned, thrusting a little, and Martin instantly released his grip on his pillow to reach back and touch Douglas’ hip.

“Come on then,” Martin said, shivery with endorphins. “You now, let me feel you, come on.”

Douglas tucked his face against Martin’s nape and inhaled. _God_ , but Martin smelled irresistible, this was like one of Douglas’ fantasies come true, and Martin fumbled to grip his hand as Douglas thrust inelegantly into him, chasing the orgasm gathering deep in his groin. He got slightly rougher, right before he came, but Martin didn’t seem to mind. He only dragged Douglas’ hand up to kiss his knuckles, and gripped his fingers tightly when Douglas nipped at Martin’s nape and started to come. He’d been effectively celibate since Helena’s departure, many months ago now; he’d forgotten the almost wrenching pleasure of fucking an omega in heat, and it seemed to take a long time for the waves of pleasure to lessen.

Douglas stayed in Martin as long as he could, smoothing his palms greedily over Martin’s chest and arms and stomach, wanting to rub his scent all over Martin, but at last he started to soften and he gripped the base of the condom as he gently pulled out. Martin squirmed a little, and Douglas pulled away only long enough to tie a knot in the end and drop it into the bin next to the bed before lying back down and wrapping himself around Martin for some post-coital cuddling.

“That was…” Martin sounded sated, almost drowsy, and Douglas kissed his hair.

“Indeed,” he murmured, catching hold of Martin’s hand and toying with his fingers.

“I mean…”

“Mmm.”

Douglas trailed his fingertips along the delicate veins on Martin’s inner forearm. Martin was as limp now as he had been desperate earlier; he looked almost asleep but something was clearly still gnawing at him and at last Douglas nudged him.

“Go on, spit it out.”

“Carolyn… she’s not going to be happy. I mean, two whole _days_ –” 

“You leave Carolyn to me,” Douglas interrupted. He brushed his mouth along the pale, freckled skin of Martin’s shoulder. “Right now I’d rather focus on you. We’ll take as long as you need for this, and you’re not to worry about it. Alright?”

“I… alright.”

Martin sounded almost amazed, and Douglas frowned a little at the evidence that Martin’s previous alphas clearly hadn’t been so considerate during his heats.

But he only stroked Martin’s hair and said gently, “Go back to sleep, if you can. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

And Martin, with a peaceful sigh, complied, one hand clutching tightly at Douglas’.

~~~

Martin’s recollections of the rest of his heat were something of a blur. Looking back, he remembered it mostly as a haze of sensations, with brief moments of clarity.

One constant, though, was Douglas. Martin was used to taking care of himself through his heats: eating and drinking whatever he could find when he could bring himself to get out of bed, keeping a cold washcloth and towels by the side of the bed, and fucking himself desperately with his pitifully small collection of toys, whimpering into the cold, empty air of his bedroom. Martin had thought he managed pretty well on his own, to the point that going through heat with an alpha present seemed just unnecessary. But nothing could have prepared him for this.

Douglas didn’t leave the room for a moment, and barely moved out of arm’s reach. It seemed as though every time Martin opened his eyes Douglas was there, performing some small but necessary service for him. Douglas brought him glasses of cold water – wonderfully refreshing to his parched throat – and coaxed him to nibble at some of the crackers and dried fruit and Arthur brought. He wrapped Martin in his arms and held him tightly enough that Martin could sleep, and brought an endless succession of warm, damp cloths to wipe Martin down, and even got Martin out of bed to half-walk, half-carry him through to the shower.

And, of course, Douglas fucked him. Martin’s toys never seemed inadequate before but he hadn’t counted on how arousing it would be to have his knees hooked over Douglas’ shoulders as Douglas fucked him, or to have Douglas shifting Martin around as easily as though Martin weighed almost nothing at all, hauling and positioning him so that they were perfectly placed for Douglas to stay inside Martin after Martin’s first orgasm and coax a second and a third from him, leaving Martin incoherent at the end of it.

Douglas was a remarkably indulgent alpha, much more so than Martin would ever have guessed from their daily interactions. He fucked Martin when Martin curled close to him and ran a hand over his hip, mutely begging, but was also content to keep to his side of the bed and merely watch when Martin flung the covers off himself and gasped for air, abruptly feeling too hot and half-smothered. On one occasion, after a shower, he reached for Martin when they were both back in bed but relaxed his grip when Martin drew back.

“I want to try something,” Martin murmured, a little shy. “If… if that’s okay.”

Douglas ran a hand gently along his side and made an agreeable noise. “Of course.”

Douglas let Martin push him onto his back and slide down the bed to lie between his legs, his mouth inches from Douglas’ mostly-hard cock.

“Oh my,” Douglas said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The desperate ache to be fucked had been banked down to a muted level, at least temporarily, and Martin wanted to try it. “I…”

He took hold of Douglas’ cock, feeling it twitch and get harder in his grip. God, this close he could _smell_ Douglas’ arousal, all fresh and clean and musky, and it made his mouth wet with saliva. “Can I?”

Douglas gave a choked-off laugh. “Of _course_ you can, I just wanted to be sure you knew you didn’t–”

He stopped quickly once Martin nosed at the base of his cock, inhaling Douglas’ scent from the coarse, dark hair at his groin. Surely it couldn’t be merely heat hormones that made Douglas smell so good, and Martin lapped awkwardly at him until he couldn’t hold out any longer and slid his mouth over the head. Douglas lay utterly still beneath him, to the point that Martin worried he wasn’t enjoying it but was too kind to tell him, until he saw Douglas’ hands fisted in the sheets up by his head and the taut line of his throat and understood that this was for _him_ , that Douglas didn’t want to push him.

“Oh. Um…” Martin pulled his mouth off to say diffidently, “You can… you know. Help. If you want.”

And Douglas reached down to gently guide Martin’s hand and mouth into a rhythm. It was sloppy, and inexpert, and more than once Martin had to pull off and apologise when a graze of teeth made Douglas flinch slightly, but it also turned him on like mad and by the end Martin was moaning around Douglas’ cock as he sucked him. Douglas’ hand tightened on his shoulder, towards the end, and Martin let Douglas push him away to grip his cock and stroke himself until he came all over his stomach and hips.

Afterwards Martin nuzzled against Douglas’ thigh, while Douglas’ fingers drew aimless, soothing patterns in his hair. That had been far more arousing than he’d been prepared for; he arched his spine and canted his hips slightly, trying to subtly ease the ache in himself.

Douglas, of course, noticed, and gripped Martin’s nape.

“Come here,” he said gently and, when Martin obeyed, drew him close for a kiss, hands wandering around and down to cup Martin’s arse. His fingers slid lightly between Martin’s buttocks and Martin moaned a little at the twist of want low in his guts.

“I think that turned you on,” Douglas said, pulling back to look into Martin’s face. “Possibly even more than you were expecting. Yes?”

Martin nodded. Douglas’ fingers were touching his hole, so gently, as Douglas continued talking; he couldn’t really be expected to form a coherent answer with that light, maddening pressure right _there_ –

“ _Martin_.” Douglas’ fingers left, and he gripped Martin’s hip. “I said, turn over.”

“But you…” Martin looked down at Douglas’ cock, lying soft and still slightly thickened against his thigh, and tried not to sound too disappointed. “You’re not…”

“Never mind about that,” Douglas said, his voice thrumming and his hold on Martin bordering on possessive. “Just turn over.”

Martin did so, willing to go along with whatever Douglas had in mind, but was utterly unprepared for Douglas to slither down the bed, push his thighs wide, and plant a pointed kiss on the crease at the top of Martin’s buttocks.

“Oh God,” Martin gasped, his heart leaping into double-time. “You’re not going to… you wouldn’t…”

“I absolutely would, and am going to,” Douglas rumbled at him, his thumbs sliding up into the wetness between Martin’s buttocks and spreading him open in preparation. “If you’re hoping to stay quiet through _this_ then you might want that pillow.”

And Martin grabbed for it quickly at the first soft brush of Douglas’ mouth against him.

Martin lost track of time, utterly ruined by the play of Douglas’ lips and tongue over his hole, breaking him down bit by bit until Martin felt that there was nothing left of him except a long streak of aching want. He pushed his face into the pillow to smother every noise that wanted to escape, and squirmed in Douglas’ grasp until Douglas pulled away, the mattress dipping as he knelt up.

“What…” Martin lifted his face out of the pillow, looking back over his shoulder at Douglas. “What are you – oh God.”

Douglas was hard again, his cock flushed and heavy between his thighs, and he braced one hand on the mattress and leaned over Martin to grab a condom from the bedside table, dropping a kiss on Martin’s shoulder blade as he did so.

“Already?” Martin panted.

“Of course,” Douglas said, his voice rough as he ripped open the tiny packet. “Eating you out while you’re in heat, with you moaning and begging me to fuck you? My God, of course I’m ready to go again.”

With no further comment he rolled the condom onto himself and sank into Martin, kissing Martin’s nape as Martin arched his back and spread his legs wider and all but sobbed with satisfaction.

And so it went until the final morning, when Martin awoke early. Douglas was still sleeping soundly, one arm flung across Martin’s waist, and Martin stretched subtly. He felt more clear-headed than he had in days; heat was over, surely, and he yawned hugely and rubbed a hand over his face. God, he was in dire need of food and a shower, but before any of that he desperately needed to piss, and he eased himself out from under Douglas’ arm and went to the bathroom.

Martin used the toilet and brushed his teeth, before taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror, where a stranger stared back at him. People talked about the post-heat glow of a mated omega and Martin had always privately thought it a load of nonsense, but now he looked at himself consideringly. He couldn’t deny that his reflection looked _happy_ : bright-eyed and clear-skinned, and the habitual tense set of his mouth nowhere in sight. Even the occasional tiny mark that Douglas had left on his neck and shoulders only made him smile.

Martin touched them gently. Douglas was apparently prone to biting lightly at whichever bit of Martin was nearest as Douglas got closer to orgasm. He also paid a great deal of attention to Martin’s nipples, certainly more than Martin had ever bothered to do in his solitary heats, and they were now flushed and just the tiniest bit sore. Martin pressed his palms over them, remembering, and the combined stimulus sent a curl of warmth down into his stomach. Perhaps his heat wasn’t _quite_ finished after all, and he snapped the light off and hurried back to bed.

On one occasion in the last few days Martin had been eager to go again while Douglas was asleep. So he’d stayed on his side of the bed and worked his fingers into himself, biting down on his lip and swallowing his noises in a bid not to wake Douglas, and when Douglas had woken anyway and found Martin he’d chided Martin for not rousing him.

So now Martin slid back into bed and, feeling bold, pressed himself against Douglas’ side. Douglas inhaled deeply, starting to wake, and Martin nuzzled his shoulder and whispered, “Morning.”

Douglas hummed sleepily and rolled into his side, sliding an arm over Martin automatically.

“You’re all cold,” he observed. “And fidgety.”

His voice was gruff from sleep and Martin wriggled a little, pressing closer.

“I want you,” he confided against Douglas’ shoulder, fingertips stroking the muscles of Douglas’ back. “Again.”

Feeling impossibly wanton, Martin pushed his half-hard cock against Douglas’ hip, as though there was the slightest possibility of misunderstanding what he meant. Douglas hummed again and rolled onto his back, pulling Martin with him until Martin straddled his hips.

“Then have me,” Douglas rumbled at him, one hand cupping Martin’s face and his thumb stroking Martin’s cheekbone, as his other hand fumbled on the bedside table for a condom.

Afterwards Martin lay with his back to Douglas’ chest, his head pillowed on Douglas’ outflung arm, and played idly with Douglas’ fingers as he drifted on the edges of sleep. Douglas had cleaned them up after they’d both come and then curled himself around Martin, sliding his legs along the backs of Martin’s thighs and tucking an arm around his waist.

“I think I’m done,” Martin observed drowsily, and Douglas’ fingers tightened around his briefly.

“I think you are, yes.”

Martin shifted a little. If he were a cat then he’d be purring with contentment, and he closed his eyes and said idly, “I’d no idea that partnered heats were so different from ones on my own.”

“What nonsense are is this,” Douglas muttered against his nape. “I’m not sure I believe this, from the man who had a box of condoms handily tucked in his bag.”

Martin laughed, arching sleepily against Douglas and resettling his fingers in the gaps between Douglas’ own. “Oh, I’ve got all sorts in there. Christ, I even have some pre-threaded sutures, and I hope to God I never have to use _those_.”

There was a moment of utter silence behind him, Douglas’ fingers stilling in his; Martin frowned and started to wake himself up until Douglas squeezed his waist reassuringly.

“Well.” Douglas kissed his shoulder. “Now you know.”

Was it his imagination or was there something slightly off about Douglas’ voice? But Martin was so terribly sleepy, surely whatever it was could wait until he woke up, and he dozed off with Douglas stroking his stomach in long, soothing sweeps.

***

Douglas held himself as still as he could as Martin sank back into sleep, Martin’s ingenuous observation having doused his ardour like a bucket of cold water. God, what had he been _thinking_? He ought to have known better than to trust an omega on the cusp of heat to make any important decisions; Martin at least had an excuse for not thinking clearly but Douglas’ conduct was inexcusable.

Martin’s face was lax and peaceful in sleep. It made him look younger, unguarded, and Douglas pressed a chaste kiss to Martin’s hair as he gradually started to untangle himself. Martin’s heat was over. Even if Douglas didn’t have a perfectly functional nose then Martin’s attitude during their last session of sex would have told him: Martin had been slow, almost languid, as he rocked on top of Douglas, none of his former urgency or desperation anywhere in sight. God, he was going to be _furious_ when he woke up, and Douglas couldn’t blame him. He could only hope that Martin would be fit to fly when he awoke: heat was an exhausting time and most omegas spent the day immediately afterwards in bed, catching up on sleep and emerging only to eat, appetites ravenous after a few days of barely taking anything.

Breakfast was by no means an apology for what Douglas had done but he didn’t exactly have many other places to start from, and so he cleaned himself up in the tiny ensuite as quietly as he could before dressing and leaving on silent, dragging feet.

~~~

Martin drifted pleasantly, not fully asleep but not really awake either. He was vaguely aware of Douglas getting up at some point, but he only stretched gently and burrowed back into the warmth of the blankets, content to drowse until Douglas’ return. Various muscles were starting to register their displeasure, but the ache only made Martin smile sleepily.

He’d never have guessed that things would turn out as they had, but he’d never been so glad of an unscheduled heat in his life. The pillows smelled like a combination of both of them; Martin was drowsy and sore but he’d never felt more cared for, and he rolled over to reach blindly for Douglas’ pillow and drew it to himself, nuzzling into it and smiling at the thought of what Douglas would say when he returned and found that he had to fight to regain his pillow. Perhaps he might even want to go out for breakfast with Martin; Martin’s hunger was tolerable, for now, but he didn’t have much longer before his body would demand food in no uncertain terms, and something more substantial than the crackers and dried fruit they’d been subsisting on for the past few days.

Martin frowned. He’d been dozing and his sense of time was a little skewed but he was fairly sure that Douglas had been gone for quite a while, and he blinked his eyes open and wondered about getting up to go in search of him. But even as Martin stretched his limbs he heard a doorknob turn and he rolled over and smiled in anticipation.

His smile changed back to a frown of confusion when he realised that it was the main door to the corridor, rather than the one to the bathroom. What had Douglas needed to go out for? But then Douglas entered and Martin’s stomach fluttered giddily at the sight of him.

“Hello,” he murmured. He felt oddly shy, even after all that had happened between them over the past few days: it was like having a layer of skin peeled away to lie, soft and exposed, beneath Douglas’ gaze.

“Hello,” Douglas said. He looked a little strained, almost _subdued_ , which was a rare enough thing that Martin felt as though the ground had suddenly shifted under his feet.

Martin sat up, resisting the urge to tug the blankets up to his chest when they fell down around his waist. “I… wondered where you’d got to.”

Douglas wouldn’t look at him as he set a cardboard cup of coffee and a paper bag down on the bedside table. “Just to get you breakfast.”

“Oh.” It was a kind gesture, but Douglas still wouldn’t’ meet his eyes and when Martin reached tentatively for him he didn’t respond. Martin let his hand fall. “I… thank you, that’s very…”

“You’re welcome.”

Douglas sounded stiff and formal. It was almost impossible to believe that this was the same man who, only yesterday morning, had run his fingertips along Martin’s spine as Martin lay on his chest and scattered idle kisses over Douglas’ collarbones, and a creeping cold settled in the pit of Martin’s stomach.

“I…” Douglas began, and tilted his head toward the door. “I’ll go. Leave you to… dress, and so on. I think the check-out time is nine o’clock, if that’s okay?”

How strange to hear Douglas _asking_ him, subdued as a dog that expected a beating, rather than chivvying him out of bed and into the shower with good-natured flirtation as he had done for the past couple of days. Martin nodded mutely, not trusting his voice.

“Right then.” Douglas cleared his throat, avoiding Martin’s gaze. “I’ll see you downstairs, then.”

Once the door had clicked shut behind him Martin buried his face in his hands, misery rising in his throat. Of course, he’d been so stupid not to see it before. Douglas didn’t want _him_ , not really. Douglas was an alpha; he’d responded to the sight and scent of an omega in heat in exactly the way any alpha would have done, and now that Martin’s heat was done…

Martin couldn’t even imagine what Douglas must be thinking, or feeling. Betrayed, possibly. Coerced into something that he would never want in a million years if he were in his right mind, and it was a long time before Martin could make himself push back the blankets and make his way to the shower.

It was a poor beginning, and the rest of the day only got worse. Douglas would barely look at him on the flight back, much less address any comments to him, and Martin huddled silently on his side of the flight deck and tried not to think about the utter mess he’d made of the best friendship he’d had in years, or possibly ever. He felt completely wretched: all his muscles ached, he was exhausted, and his face burned with shame every time his traitorous brain threw up another memory of begging Douglas to fuck him. He was also _starving_ , but couldn’t quite bring himself to call through to the galley to ask for coffee and biscuits from Arthur in the face of Douglas’ icy silence. His loss of control had been shameful enough, there was no need to flaunt the aftermath to Douglas.

When Arthur finally brought lunch through Martin was ravenous, but his relief quickly turned to dismay when he saw what Arthur had ordered for catering.

“I’m allergic to prawns,” he said awkwardly, in response to Arthur’s questioning look. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I thought I’d mentioned it to you before.”

“You had,” Douglas cut in unexpectedly. “On our trip down to Naples last month. Here.”

Without further ado he switched their trays, but when Martin poked at the new offering he bit his lip.

“What is it?” Douglas asked. He wasn’t overly terse, but even so Martin shrank back in his seat.

“I’m afraid I don’t…” Douglas made a ‘go on’ gesture, and Martin faltered, “I don’t like lentils. I’m sorry.”

His cheeks burned dully, but Douglas only said brusquely, “Well, we can’t have you flying with no food. Arthur, make yourself useful: go and scrounge up some cheese and crackers.”

“Sorry,” Martin stammered wretchedly, as Arthur took the offending tray away. “We’ve never had them before so I didn’t think to mention it–”

“Don’t keep apologising,” Douglas interrupted, not looking at him, and Martin fell silent, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. Knowing that his current state was brought on by low blood sugar didn’t make the prospect of breaking down in front of Douglas any less humiliating.

Even when Carolyn called, furious at Douglas for holding them up, Douglas didn’t spare Martin so much as a glance during the whole tirade while Martin huddled in his seat and picked at his shirt cuffs, half-sick with weariness and disappointment and hunger (that Arthur’s meagre offerings had done little to sate).

All in all, Martin had never been so glad to arrive in Fitton in his life, wanting nothing more than to go back home and sleep, but there was more to come.

“Martin,” Douglas said, turning to him once they’d completed the post-landing checks, “I’ve been thinking on the way back and I…” he cleared his throat, “I think perhaps I ought to look for work elsewhere. That would seem to be the… the decent thing for me to do.”

Martin stared at Douglas in dismay, unable to find any words until Douglas prompted, “What do you… I mean, do you have any thoughts on this you’d like to share?”

“I…” Martin swallowed, his throat dry, and nodded jerkily. “I… yes, alright. If that’s what you want.”

Tiredness must by affecting Martin’s judgement; for a moment he could have sworn that Douglas looked dismayed about it, but he only nodded briefly at Martin before starting to gather his things.

Martin sat still and quiet as Douglas left, listening to the indistinct rumble of Douglas’ voice as he began to speak to Arthur in the galley. It was almost inconceivable that things could have turned so sour in the space of just a few days, and he scrubbed his hands over his face and swallowed hard against the hot, prickly feeling behind his eyes.

“Hello, Skip.” Even Arthur sounded subdued, and Martin raised his head to smile wanly at Arthur as he inched around the door. “Been a funny old trip, hasn’t it?”

Martin leaned back in his seat with a sigh, and waved Arthur into Douglas’ vacated one. “It certainly has.”

“Even Douglas thought so.”

Martin frowned a little at this. “He told you?”

“Well…” Arthur bit his lip thoughtfully. “Not in so many words, no. But he was pretty angry about my mistake with the catering.” Arthur swallowed. “ _Really_ angry, actually; I’ve never seen him like that before.”

Martin sighed. “Well I don’t see why. It’s hardly any skin off his nose if I don’t get lunch.”

“No.” Arthur looked at Martin thoughtfully. “Did you have enough to eat, though?”

Martin’s stomach was still uncomfortably hollow; the cheese and crackers had barely blunted the edge of his hunger but Arthur’s habitual good mood looked a little tarnished and so he forced himself to smile and say, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“ _Really_ , though?”

Martin frowned. “Why?”

“You look a bit… off.”

Martin must be looking sorry for himself indeed, if even Arthur had noticed, and Martin balled his fists in his lap and refused to allow his mouth to tremble.

“What’s wrong, Skip?”

Oh God, Arthur’s kindness wasn’t helping, and Martin gritted out, “I’m fine, Arthur. Thank you.”

But his voice cracked slightly in the middle, and Arthur said gently, “You don’t… I mean, this is probably just me being wrong, as usual, but you really don’t look fine.”

Martin cleared his throat hard, trying to pull himself together. “I… it’s nothing you can help me with. But thank you.”

“Well, if you’re sure. But I’m a really good listener, if you change your mind,” Arthur said, watching Martin closely. “Pobs – not the last omega I was seeing, the one before – still calls me up to talk to me about the alphas she’s going out with. She says I always make her feel better.”

Martin sighed. He was really in dire straits if he was contemplating taking advice from _Arthur_ , of all people. But Arthur’s face was alive with concern and, now that Martin thought about it, it was true that Arthur always seemed to have a string of omegas who were all too eager to either pick him up or drop him off at the airfield.

“I…” Martin began slowly. “Well, it’s… it’s not me, really. It’s more that I’m worried for a friend of mine.”

Arthur made an encouraging noise, his head tilted to one side.

“This friend,” Martin went on. “He did something to upset a friend of his. Quite a…” he swallowed, “quite a _big_ something. And it was a complete accident, he honestly didn’t mean to. But now the other friend is angry over it, and is talking about leaving– um, I mean about moving away because of it, and my friend doesn’t know how to make it right.”

“Oh, that’s horrible for your friend,” Arthur said sympathetically, and Martin sighed.

“Yes.” Martin rubbed his hand over his face. “‘Horrible’ about sums it up, yes.”

“I suppose…” Arthur frowned thoughtfully. “Your friend has already tried apologising, has he?”

Martin shook his head. “I don’t think D– er, the other friend. I don’t think he’s interested in an apology.”

“But your friend won’t know unless he tries, will he?” Arthur said, sounding perfectly reasonable. “And if he explains that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to… Most people are nice, when you get down to it. Once the other friend has had a chance to cool off then maybe he’ll be ready to listen. But then again,” Arthur shrugged, “what do I know.”

“That’s...” Martin sat for a while, deep in thought. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He looked at Arthur. “Thanks, Arthur. I’ll try… I’ll tell my friend what you said. I’m sure he’ll be grateful.”

“No problem, Skip. Always happy to help.” Arthur beamed at him and Martin smiled tentatively back.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be on your way back by now?”

“Not yet, Douglas told me that first I had to make sure you got home okay.” Martin felt his eyebrows shoot up, and Arthur’s face took on a familiar pained look. “Although now I think about it, he did also say that I wasn’t to tell you he’d said that.”

“I… see,” Martin said weakly, almost dizzy from Douglas’ peculiar U-turns.

Arthur winced. “Sorry. You won’t tell him I let it slip, will you?”

“No, don’t worry,” Martin murmured. “Your secret’s safe with me. But there’s really no need. I’m actually just on my way round to see Douglas. I… well, I…” Martin faltered, and then rallied: “I promised to lend him a book and forgot to give it to him, so I’m just going to nip round there now before I go home. Alright?”

“Oh, right-o! No problem, then.” Arthur got up and made to leave. “Have a nice evening. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you,” Martin replied automatically, his mind already skipping ahead to Douglas’ house. “And Arthur?”

“Yes?” Arthur turned, half-out of the door.

Martin smiled at him. “Thank you. Really.”

Martin drove slowly to Douglas’ house, considering Arthur’s words. Arthur certainly wouldn’t be the first person he would have turned to for advice, but a simple apology couldn’t exactly make things _worse_ than they were already and so he made his way to Douglas’ house and parked a few doors away.

His feet seemed to double their weight as he approached Douglas’ door. It was all well and good for Arthur to suggest an apology but what in God’s name was Martin going to actually _say_? By the time he got to Douglas’ front door he was perilously close to turning tail and forgetting the whole thing, but instead he stiffened his spine and rang Douglas’ doorbell. The garden was looking a little straggly, Martin noticed as he glanced around, taking in the _For Sale_ sign at the end of the drive. He knew that Helena had left but he hadn’t known that she’d been the gardener out of the two of them; the image of Douglas grappling with the routine of weeding and watering made Martin smile as his heart twisted painfully.

“Martin.”

Douglas had answered the door while Martin was gawking at his garden, and Martin startled and muttered, “Hello.”

Douglas had had time to change out of his uniform into a shirt and jeans, and Martin had clearly interrupted him in the middle of something for he answered the door with his reading glasses perched on his nose and frowned at Martin over the top of them. They made Douglas look more serious, almost severe, and Martin swallowed nervously.

“I… I wanted to see you,” Martin began feebly. His mouth was dry, and he paused to swallow again. Douglas had his arms folded and it drew Martin’s attention to the breadth of his shoulders, the same shoulders that Martin had clung to not twenty-four hours ago, pressing desperate, biting kisses to them as Douglas fucked him.

“And?” Douglas prompted him, when Martin had been silent too long, and Martin ducked his head. Arthur’s encouragement notwithstanding, perhaps it had been a mistake to come here so soon after the end of heat. Martin’s stomach and thigh muscles still ached from the past few days exertions, his skin felt sensitised from the gentle sweep of Douglas’ hands as he held Martin and soothed him, but Martin cleared his throat resolutely.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that would do the trick. But Douglas’ expression only grew more severe.

“You’re sorry?” he said ominously, and Martin quailed inwardly. “What are you sorry for?”

Oh God, Douglas wanted to hear him actually say it. Martin swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and told himself firmly that he wasn’t going to cry. He was a mess when he cried; unlike the omegas in films, who seemed to get away with a single elegant tear sliding gently down their cheek, Martin got all red-faced and splotchy and puffy, tears and snot everywhere.

Not to mention that Douglas would surely see it as a bid to manipulate him and get on his good side. And Martin knew full well that Douglas, master of evasion and ulterior motives, had a hatred of being manipulated himself.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “for getting you into something that you wouldn’t have wanted if you’d been in your right mind. It was an accident, I swear to you, but I understand that you’re furious and of course you have every right to–”

“Martin,” Douglas cut into his nervous babbling, “what in God’s name are you–”

“Don’t leave MJN,” Martin interrupted, his words tripping over themselves and his hands wringing each other uselessly. “You shouldn’t have to, _I’ll_ go, it’s my fault. Or if you’d be happy for me to stay then we could just be… how we were before, I’d really like that.”

Martin fell silent, breathless, waiting for the blow to fall, and when Douglas said slowly, “I’m not sure you and I are seeing things quite from the same perspective,” Martin barely paused to choke out an acknowledgement before turning away. Of course Douglas wouldn’t want to be around Martin after this, how stupid to think that an apology might–

“Martin!”

Douglas’ voice was sharp but Martin only hunched his shoulders and kept walking, and he heard Douglas’ footsteps behind him before Douglas’ hand gripped his arm.

“Martin, look at me.” Unable to escape without wrenching himself free, Martin turned reluctantly to look up at Douglas.

“You and I are misunderstanding each other,” Douglas said, an odd but not unkind note in his voice. “Would you… please will you come in for a moment, so we can talk about this properly?”

Martin nodded mutely, and allowed Douglas to lead him into the house and shut the front door behind them. In the living room, Douglas nudged Martin to sit on the sofa and took a seat in the armchair opposite. Douglas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle between his legs and Martin tried not to stare too hard at his hands. Those hands, with their broad, strong palms and dextrous fingers, had held him steady for the past three days when all he could do was thrash mindlessly in the throes of heat, and stroked soothing patterns along his stomach, and brought him food and water.

“I…” Douglas began, before breaking off and looking closely at Martin’s face. “Have you eaten anything since we landed?”

Martin shook his head.

“Nothing at all?” Douglas pressed. “Not even a cup of tea?”

And when Martin shook his head again Douglas made an impatient noise and got up, disappearing into the kitchen.

“You should take better care of yourself,” Douglas chided, above the noise of him filling the kettle and switching it on to boil. “ _Now_ especially. Are you aware that you look like you’re about to keel over?”

A few minutes later Douglas set a plate of buttery toast and a mug of tea in front of Martin and resumed his seat in the armchair.

“We’re not talking until you’ve eaten that,” Douglas said firmly. “Go on.”

Martin picked up a piece of toast and hesitated, self-conscious under Douglas’ gaze. “Are you just going to sit there and watch me?”

Douglas blinked, seeming surprised for the first time since Martin showed up on his doorstep. “I… no, not if you don’t want me to.” He got up, and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll just… clear up.”

Once Douglas had left Martin took a bite of toast. He didn’t feel very hungry but the first mouthful almost made him moan: warm wholegrain bread and oh God, _real_ butter, not whichever cheap spread was on offer at the supermarket that week. He ended up eating as though he was half-starved, licking butter off his fingers and dabbing at the crumbs on the plate, deeply thankful that Douglas couldn’t see him.

Douglas was obviously listening, though; almost as soon as Martin had set the empty plate down and sighed in relief he reappeared to demand, “Better? You certainly look better, at any rate.”

“Yes,” Martin muttered. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Douglas drifted over to take his seat in the armchair. He had taken his glasses off and looked rather more approachable, and Martin regarded him with more curiosity than apprehension as he started to speak.

“Look, I…” Douglas paused, picking absently at a thumbnail. “When I apologised to you earlier, what did you think I was apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Martin admitted. “I wasn’t really… it was a bit…”

“I took advantage of you,” Douglas said quietly, not looking at Martin. “In the worst possible way. You were at your most vulnerable and instead of helping you I… I…” Douglas stumbled over the end of the sentence, and added: “My only defence is that I’ve always found you rather appealing, ever since you joined MJN. And what can I say…” Douglas’ mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile and he indicated the half-empty glass of apple juice on the coffee table, next to his discarded book. “I don’t have a history of being good at resisting temptation.”

Martin’s head spun.

“But I wanted you to,” he said. “I kissed you first, remember?”

Douglas arched an eyebrow at him. “You were going into heat, you would have kissed _Herc_ if he’d walked in at that point.”

Martin half-shuddered in mortified horror, but insisted stubbornly, “I wanted _you_. I’ve wanted you for months now. I just… didn’t think you’d be interested.”

It was stupid that _this_ made him blush, after all they’d already done together, and Martin had to force himself to hold Douglas’ gaze.

“Of course I’m interested,” Douglas said slowly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, look at you!” Martin exclaimed, waving a hand at him. “And look at me! I thought you were angry with me that I’d somehow tricked you into sleeping with me when in reality you’d never in a million years want–”

“No.” Douglas was already shaking his head. “No, that’s not it at all, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Right.” Martin gave a tired laugh. “I should have guessed. As usual.” He picked up his mug of tea and wrapped his hands around the comforting warmth of it. “So what do we do now, then?”

“Well…” Douglas began slowly, “if you’re sure you don’t want me to leave, then I suppose we’re fine.”

“Okay.” Martin sipped at his tea. It was strong and milky, just how Douglas knew he liked it, and he glanced at Douglas.

Douglas’ head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. He was picking at his thumbnail again, and Martin set his mug down and demanded, “What if it don’t want just ‘fine’?”

Douglas looked up at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Martin felt impossibly bold, his heart racing and his palms sweaty. He licked his lips. “You said you liked me, when I first joined MJN. Do you still?”

Douglas’ expression softened into something fondly exasperated, and suddenly Martin could see the alpha who’d given up three days to taking care of him and had withstood a vigorous brow-beating from Carolyn over the delay without once so much as glancing in Martin’s direction. “Of course I do.”

“Then I…” Martin swallowed nervously. Words failed him and instead he got off the sofa and walked over to kneel between Douglas’ spread legs. Douglas frowned a little at the sight of him on the floor and reached for Martin, trying to urge him to his feet but Martin caught one of Douglas’ hands and clutched it tightly between both of his, pressing a shy kiss to the backs of Douglas’ fingers.

“Can we… could we… try?” Martin asked hesitantly. “If you want to, that is. I’d… I’d really like that. A lot.”

“Oh _Martin_.” Douglas’ expression did something complicated and then he was reaching forward, cupping Martin’s face in warm, strong hands and kissing his forehead gently. “Of course we can. I’d like nothing better.”

And then Douglas was gripping Martin’s shoulders and urging Martin up off the floor and into his lap, wrapping his arms around Martin and hugging him until Martin gasped for breath. Martin folded himself awkwardly against Douglas in the chair, pressing his face to Douglas’ shoulder and grabbing clumsily for whatever bit of Douglas he could reach, and just clung to him, breathing in Douglas’ familiar, comforting smell as Douglas’ hands stroked gently over his back.

*~*~*~

They stayed there for a long time, as the patch of afternoon sunlight crept round the floor and Douglas carded his fingers unceasingly through Martin’s hair. He only stirred when Martin’s stomach growled, and pressed a palm to Martin’s ribs.

“You must be starving,” Douglas murmured, fingers gripping firmly enough not to tickle.

Martin nodded. “Still pretty hungry, yes. That toast didn’t really do much.”

Douglas exhaled heavily through his nose. “I was furious with Arthur for mucking up the catering order.”

“I know.” Martin turned his face into Douglas’ throat, rubbing his cheek against Douglas’ shoulder, and Douglas’ hand came up to cradle the back of his skull. “He told me.”

“Mmm.” Douglas shifted in the chair. “Let me up, then, and we’ll see about an early dinner.”

But Martin only tightened his grip on Douglas and tucked his head harder under Douglas’ jaw. “Not just yet.”

“Alright then.” Douglas subsided, relaxing back into the chair and starting to pet at Martin’s hair again. “Whatever you want.”

And Martin clasped their hands together, rubbing his thumb across Douglas’ knuckles as the sunlight inched its way a little farther across the floor.


	2. Epilogue

Douglas let himself into the main lobby of his block of flats – careful not to slam the door in the sleeping street – and climbed the stairs to his flat, anticipation quickening his steps.

It was now two months since Douglas had given Martin a key and told him to let himself in whenever he pleased, but for all the use Martin made of it one would have thought Douglas was a dragon guarding his hoard. Today had been a brief trip that Douglas was more than capable of managing alone, letting Martin schedule some much-needed van work, and Douglas had been explicit in his urging that Martin should feel free to let himself in and make himself at home if he wanted to stay the night, never mind that Douglas would be back late.

Douglas slipped his shoes off just inside his flat and padded down the hall on silent feet, against the possibility that Martin had opted for an early night. But the light and sounds of splashing from the bathroom made him smile, and Douglas set his bag just inside the bedroom door and threw his jacket on the bed before making his way to the bathroom.

Martin had taken some time to be comfortable in Douglas’ new flat. Douglas’ house had been out of the question: Martin had hardly dared come over at all, and certainly hadn’t ever wanted to stay the night, leaving Douglas to consider whether he might actually die of sexual frustration before contracts were exchanged and he could move to his new flat. It put rather a cramp in their fledgling courtship, to say the least.

But Douglas had eventually moved – six months ago – and Martin started to spend increasing amounts of time at Douglas’ flat. Martin was often still shy, though, and over the oddest things. He would never take a bath without checking that Douglas didn’t mind – for the sake of his water bill, Douglas supposed – and it was only a couple of weeks previously that he’d started to make himself a cup of tea or coffee without asking first. There were occasions, at the end of a long day when they were both exhausted, when Martin’s awkward reticence drove Douglas almost to distraction, but he held his tongue. It was difficult to say whether Martin’s diffidence was innate or due to their rocky beginning, but Douglas kept a tight rein on his temper and slowly Martin began to relax around him.

Anyone looking at Douglas’ apartment would still think he led the life of a single alpha, though. None of Martin’s possessions had migrated from his student house to Douglas’ flat; there were no spare packets of birth control pills in the bathroom cabinet, and not so much as a crumpled handkerchief on the side of the bed that Martin favoured. With anyone else then after this long together Douglas would be on the verge of suggesting that they just move the rest of their possessions over permanently to join all the ones that had found their way thus far, but it was typical that Martin would be slower and more hesitant in this also.

_Still_ , Douglas thought, warmth unfurling pleasantly in his chest at the thought of Martin in his bed every night, and Martin’s clothes taking up residence in half of the wardrobe, _perhaps in another six months or so… once he’s stopped asking if I_ mind _every time he wants to come over…_

It seemed that Martin had relaxed enough to take advantage of Douglas’ large bath this evening, though. Enthusiastic advantage, if the vigorous splashing was any indication, and Douglas grinned to himself as he paused outside the half-open door. Martin would be flustered to see him – a brisk tailwind and minimal traffic from the airfield to his flat meant that he was earlier than planned – and Douglas was already anticipating the opportunities for teasing Martin he would get from this.

But when he glanced through the door, preparatory to making a silky-voiced remark, his comment died in his throat and he gripped the door frame hard as he stared.

Martin was indeed in the bath, but he wasn’t exactly relaxed. His head was tipped back to rest against the back, his knees bent slightly to accommodate the length of his legs; one hand was at his chest, rubbing at his nipples, and the other was between his legs, fisting his cock. Standing where he was, Douglas had an excellent view of the wet, rigid length of Martin’s cock sliding between his fingers, the dark, swollen head and the dappled-pink skin of his stomach and chest, flushed from arousal and the heat of the water. Martin’s head strained back as he bit at his lips, his hips pushing up into his fist, and he moaned to himself as he ran a thumb over the slit at the head.

“Oh,” Martin gasped quietly, his eyes tightly shut. “Oh Douglas, please… yes, just there.”

Douglas’ knees felt suddenly unsteady underneath him and he gripped the door frame tighter. But the next instant Martin lifted his hand from his chest to push two fingers into his own mouth, jaw opening wide to accommodate them. For a moment Douglas was puzzled, until he recognised the rhythm Martin was using: the same one he used when he was sucking Douglas’ cock and wanted to draw it out, and Douglas nearly groaned aloud.

But when Martin’s knees started to quiver and his strokes sped up on his cock, tugging brusquely at the head while Martin moaned greedily around the fingers in his mouth, Douglas cleared his throat and said Martin’s name roughly. He had intended to follow it up with a comment on how this sort of discovery made him wish he’d got home faster, but he wasn’t prepared for Martin’s full-body startle.

Martin leapt almost out of his skin, sending a small wavelet slopping over the side of the bath, and flailed frantically as Douglas quickly whipped a towel off the rail and dropped it on the floor next to the bath to soak up the spreading puddle.

“Hello,” he said dryly, as Martin slid back to sit upright and sent another small wave of water over the side, and Douglas reached for another towel to drop on the floor. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Douglas!” Martin stammered. “You’re… you’re back early, I hadn’t thought… I wasn’t expecting–”

“Clearly,” Douglas said, amused. Martin had grabbed a flannel and was clutching it to his groin. It did almost nothing to preserve his modesty; even if Douglas _hadn’t_ just interrupted Martin in the middle of a slow, luxurious wank, he had put hands and mouth all over every square inch of Martin’s skin by now, so the notion of Martin having the slightest shred of modesty left to him was a laughable one.

“I… um, I took a bath,” Martin blurted, gaze fixed firmly on Douglas’ chest. “I hope that’s okay. I–”

“Of _course_ it’s okay.” Douglas rolled his eyes but kept his voice fond as he knelt by the bath, avoiding the wet towels. “Come here.”

Clumsily, Martin leaned forward to kiss him and Douglas cupped a hand to Martin’s face, stroking his thumb over one of Martin’s cheekbones. Martin’s mouth was flushed red, redder than the heat of the water would account for, and Douglas took his time kissing the plush fullness of Martin’s lower lip, tongue brushing lightly past it. He kissed Martin until Martin was starting to breathe heavily, before pulling back.

“How was your day?” he enquired lightly, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up, and Martin swallowed.

“Fine,” he said distractedly, watching Douglas’ hands. “Um, good. Productive.”

“Excellent,” Douglas purred, finishing with his sleeves and leaning back in for another kiss. This time he stroked the backs of his fingers down Martin’s cheek and continued along his throat, down across his collarbones, over his chest, and down the flat planes of his stomach until Douglas could press his fingers lightly against the flannel Martin still clutched to himself.

Martin caught his breath, and Douglas took advantage of the pause to say, “Enjoying yourself, were you?”

“Sorry,” Martin said, his ears reddening. “I–”

Douglas kissed him hard, smothering further apologies. “Don’t be ridiculous. What part of this do you imagine isn’t devastatingly arousing? And I’m not so naïve as to imagine that just because we’re together then you’ve stopped masturbating. No-one does.”

“I…”

One of Martin’s hands came up to clutch at Douglas’ hair and Douglas cupped his palm over the solid heft of Martin’s cock, tangling their fingers and pressing down gently against it as Martin moaned. Douglas didn’t try to steal the flannel, however; he only dipped his hand down lower, between Martin’s thighs, to find the soft weight of Martin’s balls. He cupped them in his hand, tugging gently, and Martin shuddered as his legs twitched further apart. Douglas ghosted his fingers down to press lightly against Martin’s perineum and Martin moaned, biting briefly at Douglas’ lower lip, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Do you know,” Douglas murmured to him, his voice little more than a growl, “what I’d like right now?”

Martin shook his head, and didn’t resist when Douglas tugged the flannel gently out of his grasp to run his fingers along the hot, heavy length of Martin’s cock.

“I’d like to watch you finish yourself off,” Douglas said, breathless at the mere thought of it, and Martin’s teeth nipped his lip.

Impossible to tell whether Martin was blushing at the thought; his face was already flushed from the heat of the water, but his cock twitched a little under Douglas’ fingers.

“Really?” Martin asked.

“Of course,” Douglas said, curling his fingers around Martin’s cock to squeeze a little and hearing Martin’s breath hitch. “Only if you want to, though.”

“I… yes, alright.” Martin licked his lips, and released his grip on Douglas. “Why don’t you sit over there.”

Douglas got up and went to perch on the closed lid of the toilet. His uniform trousers were already a little tight at the thought of it and he drew a deep breath as Martin shut his eyes and reached down between his thighs again. He didn’t look as though he’d softened at all during their conversation; his cock still curved up flushed and hard to rest on his stomach. One corner of Martin’s mouth tugged up as he started to touch himself, and Douglas’ suspicions were confirmed when Martin murmured, “This feels so dirty.”

But he was smiling as he said it, and his hand had resumed the brisk, quick tugs on his cock, and so Douglas only let his legs splay open and growled, “You look _obscene_ you know. It’s utterly gorgeous.”

Martin bit his lip but his smile broadened, obviously pleased, and he arched his back a little as he touched himself. The head of his cock pushed through the curl of his fingers, and Martin started to lift his hips to push into his hand. The only sounds in the bathroom were the rhythmic lap and splash of the water against the sides of the bath and Martin’s breathing, growing faster and heavier, until he dropped his other hand down between the splay of his thighs. Martin moaned slightly, low in his throat, and Douglas looked at the cant of his hips and the angle his wrist was crooked at and had to palm himself roughly through his trousers as he imagined Martin’s fingers pushing into himself.

“I’m getting close,” Martin moaned, his hand speeding up and his knees drawing up as he tensed. “Oh, Douglas, I don’t think I can hold on much longer, I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Douglas said breathlessly. “Go on, do it, I want to see–”

“ _Oh_ ,” Martin gasped, his voice suddenly thrumming with urgency. “Oh, oh God, yes, that’s it, yes, there, _oh_.”

Martin’s neck strained back as his teeth dug into his lower lip and he came, spattering his release messily all over his stomach and chest, while Douglas unzipped his own trousers and shoved a hand inside, grinding the heel of his palm roughly against his cock.

Martin held the taut arch of his back through the last weak pulses over his fingers, and then opened his eyes and murmured, “Wait” to Douglas, who groaned through gritted teeth but stilled his hand under Martin’s gaze.

“Let me.” Martin sat up, his chest and stomach still flushed and streaked with his come, and murmured, “I want to suck you.”

“Oh God,” Douglas groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’m not–”

“Please.” Martin’s voice was low, husky, and he said, “Douglas, look at me.”

Douglas opened his eyes to look helplessly at Martin, his wet hair sleeked back from his face and his red mouth.

“Come here,” Martin requested, holding out a hand, and Douglas couldn’t even think of disobeying him. He staggered to his feet and stumbled across the room to stand by the bath.

“I loved watching you looking at me,” Martin said, looking up at Douglas while his deft hands freed Douglas’ erection from his underwear. “God, it was such a turn-on.”

Douglas’ knees trembled beneath him; Martin saw and he grinned as he knelt up in the bath, the water sloshing.

“You might want to hang onto the towel rail,” he said wickedly, before opening his mouth and sucking Douglas in.

Douglas cried out at the sensation. Martin’s mouth was sinfully hot and wet, and he gripped Douglas’ cock tightly around the base as he sucked him. Douglas groaned loudly, reaching down to cup a hand over Martin’s wet hair, and Martin made a greedy noise around him, his tongue pressing firmly against Douglas’ slit.

Douglas’ hips bucked on instinct; he gasped an apology but Martin only hummed reassuringly, sucking at him and cupping Douglas’ balls in his hand until Douglas’ knuckles whitened where he gripped the towel rail.

This wasn’t going to be the most impressive display of stamina. He’d been worked up since getting back to find Martin in the bath, and now with Martin bobbing his head fast and sloppy on Douglas’ cock, Douglas’ toes were curling in his shoes and he moaned warningly, “ _Martin_.”

“Go on.” Martin pulled back enough to speak, his lips moving against the head of Douglas’ cock and making Douglas all but whimper. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

And he sucked Douglas back in, pulling at him tight and hot and Douglas gasped sharply once, twice, before gritting his teeth and groaning harshly as he came. He managed to stay standing throughout, although his hand tightened bruisingly on Martin’s wet shoulder and his legs shuddered under him, and he blinked open his eyes afterwards to Martin suckling gently at him as he started to soften.

“Christ,” Douglas panted, and cupped Martin’s jaw as he pulled away, abruptly too-sensitive and shivery. “God, you devil, that nearly knocked me over.”

Martin smiled at him impishly. For a fanciful moment Douglas thought he looked like a water nymph, or a selkie, and he stroked a hand lightly over Martin’s hair before saying, “Slide forward a bit.”

Martin frowned a little, puzzled, but when Douglas started to toe off his shoes and unbutton his shirt he grinned delightedly and complied. Douglas was half-undressed already, and it was only the work of a few moments to strip the rest of his clothes off and climb in behind Martin, shuffling around until Martin was sitting between his legs and nestled back against his chest. It was a touch cramped – the bath was a fair size but hadn’t really been built for two fully grown men – but Douglas wrapped an arm loosely across Martin’s chest and felt Martin hum in pleasure where he was reclining against Douglas.

And then, just because he could, Douglas squeezed Martin’s midriff and trailed his fingers through the mess on Martin’s chest and stomach, and pointed out, “For someone having a bath, you’re doing an absolutely rubbish job at getting clean.”

He had to tighten his hold the next moment, as Martin squirmed in mock-indignation, and reached for the soap and sponge with his other hand.

“Why don’t I give you a hand with that,” Douglas purred into Martin’s ear, and grinned to himself at Martin’s contented noise.

_Yes_ , Douglas thought to himself happily, lathering up the sponge and moving it across Martin’s relaxed torso in long sweeps, _another six months ought to do it._

 

**End**


End file.
